Lusitania Meadowlark, 96 PTD, 7 months after the 95th Games
"Sir, please, it was a mistake. I know you wanted Joyeux as victor, but under the circumstances it was deemed safer to allow the Games to play out their current-" The sound rings out across the room. Oddly like small marbles clattering across a pavement, but of course there are no small marbles in Head Gamemaker Julius Reedwater's pockets. There's a hint of apologetic patheticness in his next words. "Of coursh, Shir. It wash not an acshepchable Vicchor. I wish to prove myshelf again neksht year, the arena ish-"
"You will not be proving yourself next year, Julius. I am not Coriolanus Snow, no blood will be shed under my roof. Nor any souls allowed to escape, yours is staying right with you. You will be fired, I'm sure the income you've brought in thus far will be sufficient to last you the rest of your days. You are not to intervene in your beloved Hunger Games. You are not permitted to interact with any of your former staff without prior agreement from myself, which will only be given if it is for purely social reasons. You should be grateful, I do not wish to cause unnecessary issue. You will announce you are retiring to your private residence in Tiberia tonight, after the closing ceremonies. You will also provide my chosen successor for you with whatever they need to do their job to the best of their abilities, including all present information you control. Including the password to your private terminals, the dossier you have in your sock drawer collating information for the 96th, and your 'Games Official' Flutter account. I don't want to hear any arguing." The voice is cold, it is iron, it is resolute. It's everything that needs to be and more to bring out what comes next.
A strangled whine, like that of a kicked dog, before words come out. Just four, four simpering words. "Yesh, Mr. Preshident. Who?" A cold amusement is borne from this question. The silence hangs in the air for a long moment, before the voice on the other end responds.
"I'll surprise myself, and if I'm surprised I am sure you will be too. Take care, Julius."
The track switches off, and President Locke turns to the room with a small smile on his face. A smile which conveyed genuine fondness for the audio, even if that in itself inspired shock in the watchers. Then, he gives a clap. "So. Class, given the act you seem so determined to put on of attentive children. Julius Reedwater will no longer be joining you. You wanted to know where he was, and. Well. A regrettable loss to retirement. Still, that's an opportunity for all of you to prove yourselves. Now."
"Lusitania Meadowlark. Promoted to Head Gamemaker, your work as acting Head has met with rave reviews. Cassius Brockenhurst, you'll be replacing her as head of Muttation and Environmental Development." Her former deputy blanches beneath a curtain of brown hair, even in spite of the applause of several of his own subordinates. "Choose your own deputy, Mr. Brockenhurst. Caesilia Price, you're being replaced by an individual of Head Gamemaker Meadowlark's choosing as Head of Balance Maintenance and Tribute Affairs, you'll be stepping up to head Meadowlark's PR wing."
He nods at the old woman, who gives a nod back with a smile far too weak to be acceptable. Truth be told, Lusi isn't entirely sure her placidity is ideal for this role, but President's orders, and it's likely the position is as much a bribe to keep the Prices on side as anything. The names go on. Young Sarielle Whitsun, for her report over Reedwater's corruption, is promoted to Lusi's personal aide. Hopefully she's up to the task, and if not that Lusi can get through to Sari's father over the issues as to not cause offence.
Old Roman Atwood is given command of the editing department, the first of several direct subordinates Lusi has never spoken with past a passing hello. Helios Kleinjen is finally removed when Reedwater's umbrella is gone, for sharing information with his best friend (and coincidentally one of the most successful bettors in Games history). Removed by force, and it takes two big Peacekeepers to hoist him up. The list goes on.
"Sertorius Lefford," the voice rings through the room, selecting the head of Games security. The man blanches. "Well done on your job so far, I remember your father. Great man, one of my best officers in the Riverlands."
"Thank you, Sir." That's all Sertorius can get out, before the President finishes his speech.
"I congratulate all of you on your promotions, or on not being executed." The laughter that rings throughout the room is tense, but real enough. Everyone remembers Snow's reign of terror. "Should there be any concerns, these can be forwarded to your new Head Gamemaker. I hope this does not cause issue with the 96th. That would be... sub optimal."
That's over, and there's still more. "I want no sticky fingers on the scale this time. Make this work as you will, but this year I think every District wants a Victor. I don't think we have any planned... insurance Reapings, so that's twenty-six children. I want a winner, a Victor, who wins fairly. Reedwater had a little too much fun making sure his favourites won. I trust you, Mrs. Meadowlark, will be able to handle biases better than he could.
With that, the President takes his leave. The room descends into chaos as soon as he does, Gamemakers clustered around their various tables as hushed discussion erupts. "Can he do that?"
"I quite liked Head Gamemaker Reedwater."
"It could have been worse. Snow could have. Well."
"Snow should not be mentioned in this room. Not in front of..." That particular conversation trails off,
Lusitania was used to the criticism. To the whining, the complaining. It wasn't exactly foreign to her, not since the 88th. Not since Snow's Purge. The Gamemakers, he'd declared in the aftermath of a Victor from the former rebel stronghold of Four, had become too complacent, Victors not acceptable enough. Half the staff was dragged outside, shot by Peacekeepers as their colleagues were forced to watch. Lusitania was lucky, the next one in line until Commander Argent had declared they'd made half. The new President, the year after, was a breath of fresh air.
The fact that wasn't the worst case scenario, as they'd soon learnt, was frankly terrifying. Still, they'd clung on. The last 6 years had seen 5 loyal-seeming, popular tributes ascend and seize the crown. The trophy. The honour, the glory of the Games Victory. Such a shame that Catelyn Littaker had clung on, had managed to defy the odds and the rampant Capitol hordes rooting for her ally from One. Had managed to drive a knife through Joyeux's shoulder, draw it back and drive it down into the soft, pale throat.
Oh, Catelyn had her fans. Those who'd felt Ten deserved better than what they had got for their continual loyalty, had served the Capitol well and subsequently managed to rise the ranks and start bringing in proper Victors. Loyal Victors. Lusitania Meadowlark had no such opinions, and couldn't care either way past that the Victors were her products in some part. Now, it seems, in whole part. Instead, she clapped her hands, and the room went silent. Making a beeline for the chair a step above the rest, her voice begins to work, echoing from a now amplified microphone. "This changes nothing. We've practiced this, people. I'm good and sure we have a tight ship. We'll have a little heart to heart, though. I want to know what's worked with each of you, I've finally caught up on paperwork. What's going on, what's cooking. We have how long until the Games?"
"Five months, nine days." Trust Plutus to know the answer. "Well then," she says with a hint of excitement in her voice. "Let's start with Muttation development. How's it all getting on? Cass, you have the floor, I want details. Are the Latties adapting to the environment well? I know they were bred for a nutrientless hellscape or whatever it is you wanted for the 95th before Julius pulled up."
"Yes, they were. Still, we've managed to adapt them. They're bigger, they're better. I'm sure we could train them to do some cool things." He laughs, not getting a response and subsequently quieting. "If they... were able... to be trained? Anyways, we've also seeded the Arena with some fun other plants. You've been told about the Halos, of course, but we've got all kinds of stuff. Really going to test the kids in that environment, not that they need much more testing. Anyways. Yeah, the plants have gone well. We're looking at a testing environment, some mutts but mostly good, natural fun. Should be enjoyable for the audience. Besides, who loves perfection? We've got a nice polish on it all, but nothing too overly sterile."
"Very well. I'll want a full walkthrough at some point on that front, but today isn't the time. Got a lot to get through. Jo, how's the water looking? Your team got it handled?"
Jovian, excited as ever, nods. "We're looking great! Bas is sitting tight in her pen, when she needs to be released I can promise one hell of a show. We've got things of just about every size, and unlike the jokes of Games we had in the past we've actually got a nice ambiance. Sure, some of the fish do what Piranhas were meant to do, and maybe the Pristi's were a bit excessive, but what the hell. For every one of those, we have genuinely neat life that doesn't try to kill. Speaking of which, I don't know if you..."
"No, you're not getting one of the turtles after the thing's over unless I get some kind of reason or Presidential approval. Far too expensive to hand over. Now, Bas."
She sits at the desk, sighing slightly. It's a boring job, making sure everything's in order, but she has to do it. "Bas. Star of the show, or one of them at least. Jo, are you sure she'll be ready to perform? She's apparently not the most excitable at the best of times, and..."
Of course he interrupts her, excited to show progress. That's acceptable, if it looks good. "We've let her do a little roaming. Find the passages, do a little practice run. She's got a particular aptitude for the hunt. Give us another six months, and we can-"
"We've got five months. Will she be ready?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Leaning back, Lusi claps her hands. "I'm glad. You need any testing, requisition some Avoxes. Not like we don't have enough of them. Problem ones, though, good staff are hard to find."
A laugh rings through the room, again, and Lusi doesn't spare a glance for the Avoxes waiting in the wings. They're just staff, after all. Just staff. Without words, a chair is pulled from the Invertebrates department (Sometimes existent, sometimes not), Lusi taking her seat and a clipboard. "Now. I know it's not on brand, but a bit more interest is necessary after those things next year. How're our kids coming along?" Offering a little smile, she nods. "I worked on the Arties myself. Being frank, I think they're the best part of a very good arena. So, how're they doing?"
Herodotus' shrug elicits a shake of her head before his hands move down as if to calm her. "They're doing really fabulous. About as big as the notes said, thank the Capitol. Got the others pulling a shift as well. Trust me on this, your arena's going to be interesting." Offering a nod and making some cursory notes on a clipboard, Lusi smiles.
"That's good. Can they kill? I'd hoped to get that going, and." Another nod, her head bobbing like a Ten chicken with feed, and now she's really smiling. "Go on..."
Herodotus, taken aback, stutters for a second before Hyacinthus takes over. "They absolutely can. Got a feeder the other day, reared up and went for it. They're bloody big, heavy as well, took the poor guy down before he had a chance. I'd feel bad, but. Well, the data was superb. Terrifying bastards. The others haven't been tested yet, but they'll do it. I know they can. Not the most vicious for feeding, but you don't want a body too mangled."
She smiles, and moves on to arguably the most important department. Mammals.
"Now, then, boys. You've got a big job. We wanted bigger and better, we've got bigger and better. Starting from our star of the hour, then. Need good publicity." She glances to her left, smiling at the red-haired man shuffling slightly in his seat "Lysander, what's the status of Moe? Is he ready to become a star?" Ever the downer, Lysander shakes his head.
"No. Don't think he is, at least. Little guy can't tell jump from roll over, to put it lightly. Thought they were meant to be smart."
"How long do you need?"
"Six months at least, and..."
"Done at five months. Four, even, want him out making the rounds now. Make it happen, Lysander, make me proud." When this doesn't elicit a response, Lusitania tried a different strategy. "Bonus?"
"Give me four months." Another issue sorted with minimal fuss. A job well done. Lysander continues, voice belying more faith.
"Now, the Arses." A round of laughter, and she has to wave her hands to stop this. It's juvenile, and she won't stand for it. Albeit, referring to the creatures under their care as Arses is a little bit funny, even Lusi can admit that. "They're doing well. A bit antsy, but this close to the reaping I think we all are."
"We're 5 months out! We're almost as close to the damn 95th!" And of course they are but if Lusi has butterflies she can only imagine how everyone else must be feeling. "But that feeling's fair enough. I don't think that we'll be totally ready, but you're doing well. I think we'll be doing well enough, with all the prep that's happened, to have a well done Games. The rest of the mammals, are they?"
"Ready. We're as ready as we can be. The 'dons alone are going to be doing a thing. And we've got it all handled, kills will be limited. Severely limited. Maybe a few, but I know you wanted the main focus to be on the Tributes, and we're happy to oblige. Now, on the topic of extra funding?"
"Done. Those proposals look good, and if we can get them handled we have to. I believe that's all, ma'am." Noting these down, she nods and ensures the notes are all done before a smile can be given..
"Handled. Thank you, crew. Moving on."
"Stocking Division, report." Missy snaps off a sharp salute that sees Lusi write something down on her notebook before they begin to speak. "Of course, ma'am. For one, we've got a nice Cornucopia set up. Everything they should need for four weeks. We're thinking-"
They're interrupted by a slap of the hand. "Four weeks is unacceptable. If we're waiting four weeks, we're in a bit of a shitshow aren't we? These games are meant to be poppy, vibrant. Exciting.. I want it over by the 31st absolute latest, we're not entering a new month. If you can get this to end two weeks in, I'll be very glad. When the Games take a while, like the 95th and 94th both did, people get bored. So ideally we can fix this up in time to have a nice, popping Games! If not, well. It won't matter. I won't throw a nice ending party immediately after, though. This is my threat. Quiver in terror."
A rippling laugh, and she waves her hand. "Calm down, everyone. I'm not Reedwater, or Snow. Unless one of you fucks up badly enough I need to, I don't exactly want to have to take you out of the equation. If we aren't perfect, it doesn't matter. I'd love to be perfect, but looking around at you lot I don't think it's happening." They nod, making notes attentively and smiling. Missy begins to speak again, tone a little plaintive, and Lusi cant help but feel a little bad at even implying a possible issue. "And we have orders in for every kind of weapon. Hell, we got a stock of those metal fans and all. If a tribute looks good with a weapon, we have them ready to put in."
This draws a smile and a nod, Lusi's glad that at the least they've prepared this much. Then a move, and with that shift of her chair onto terrain design. "Now. Have we got it all ready?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Krios snaps off a salute, Koios following after a moment. "It's a nice Arena, should test the tributes. But we've got it set up. The pedestals are in a hell of a position, but that'll impede their Squad as much as the outliers. Should let enough of them run off to have a nice array of tributes available. None of those empty Games with two hiders dragging it out. Plus, the rise and fall should keep us moving."
The rest of the reports are much the same in their generally positive outlook. Filming and editing promises they have a nice set of tributes set for the Games, the PR team is more than glad to take control of the Games Official Flutter account, and Master of Ceremonies Decimus Karst is ready to handle that side of things. All in all, it's a good round, and one that means the Games are largely sorted. So, for the moment, it's all quiet, and Lusi's finally able to ring the bell on the desk and get all back together. "Ok then! Good talk. I'll be handling the affairs of everything I... now handle, any questions come to me, get to work." Hoping there isn't a lot of questions, then, Lusi sits back and begins to spitball ideas for her own scheduled interviews. There's a number. The spitballing does tend to have to wait, though.
There's a lot of questions.
"Ma'am, we've got these new quotes from a contractor. Six per cent reduction on price per Mutt, which comes out to-"
"Yes?"
"Approximately ninety million Talents saved on what we have left to do."
"Have we used them before? Are they trustworthy?" Answers of 'no' and 'new start-up' aren't the best. Panem help them if this was the man seventeenth in line for succession. "No. We pay what we do for what we get because we're the best. If you can get me a reason it'll be worth it, then fine. If not, go off and pay. A start-up is not a trustworthy source."
"Ma'am, Decimus wants to know if we have any additional expectations of additional guests at the interview?"
"It's five months out. Moe, of course. Tell him we'll need some special accommodations. If we have anyone else I will let him know when it's sealed."
"Ma'am, have you seen the recent polling results coming in? The audience says they're looking forward to more... distinctively... yeah. Distinctive Arena to the one we've got lined up, is there any chance that we can..."
"No. Absolutely not. Our arena is perfectly fine, and more importantly we've designed and paid for all the stuff already. Pull out now and we lose Presidential support and such we really can't afford to lose. I don't want any issue on that front, understand?"
The rest of it continues in a similar manner. Smiling aides, coming up to her with simpering voices and pleading for an extension, promising that with just a little more time it'll be perfect. They promise, and promises are like ashes in the Capitol. Liable to blow with a changing wind
The main entertainment after her own staff are gone and it's onto the outsiders is licensing, because of course everyone wants that. Technically the Games themselves can be streamed on any screen, and Lusitania is fully intending to honour that legal arrangement. However for 24/7 Hunger Games content, the Games without the sideshows and the laughter and the interviews, just 24/7 content? Licensing is required for that kind of streaming, and only a limited number of those are to be given out. So there's an endless stream of messengers, usually pretty 'secretaries' hired from One, turning up at her door. Hotels, casinos, cinemas from as far afield as Five's Vipeche, and of course the usual bars want their cut. With 300 licenses offered for private use, bidding isn't pretty, and eventually everyone is turned away with the promise they'll be told if they got the bid or not.
She's done, finally, at 7:00. The final sheets are signed, and by then it's 7:05 and Lusi is tired. Once she's done with the next signature, it's out the door. Stepping away before someone can ask her to look at the vid-screen. A quick ride on the Transfer, train slipping effortlessly through the darkened tunnels. First class, of course. Off at Ringway station, and before she could recite the Victors (admittedly a long task) she's in through the front door. The smell of something stewing is in the air, and it smells delicious.
Penelope's there when she enters the kitchen, apron on and working on something in a pot. "Oh, love. You're home earlier than expected. Did you hear about your-"
"Promotion. Of course I did. Thank the stars above our dear President saw fit to inform me rather than simply announcing it on the news feeds, or... Flutter." A collective shudder, and Lusi's walking over to her wife now, hands on the others' hips and chin on her shoulder when Lusi draws behind her. "What're you making? It smells good."
"Nothing special," and after a gentle bat on her nose Lusi withdraws. "A nice chicken curry, some rice to go with it. We're eating well tonight, it's a big day for you. My wife, the Head Gamemaker!" This last bit is sung out, like an excited little bird. "So, you sit down," protests of being able to help go unheeded, "and my busy little bee can chill out."
"I do this under duress." The only form of muttered protest voiced by Luci, and one that draws a chirping little laugh.
"Of course you do, sweetheart. Only the best, because you need to rest!" The tone is light and possibly a little too honeyed, but that's just Pene.
Dinner is, as always, lovely. Lovely because of the cooking, lovely because the conversation that runs over it is so busy, lovely because it's just a good atmosphere. Lovely to the extent that when it's over Lusi is a little more willing to cooperate when she's guided into the bedroom and the corner of her mouth cleansed from sauce with a sweep of Pene's hand. And when Penelope's then tugging insistently at her hand, and Lusi looks down at the rumpled bedsheets. Well, she puts all thoughts of Games and Gamemakers and Moe out of her head, and instead focuses on the important things. What's right in front of her.
And with this, my friends, I christen a new age! The age of PYOT! The age of blood!
More seriously, I am very hyped for writing this. Welcome to To Fish in Murky Waters!
So, a few details. Submissions open today (Jan 24th 2025), to close on Friday the 28th of March at midnight (GMT). The template link and more in-depth lore docs are nestled up in my profile, and in an ideal world I'd be taking your submissions written on google docs. Submissions are not first-come first-served (I fully get that it takes time, and won't penalize for that).
In terms of actual submission locations, I offer a few different routes. I will be trying to inform you ASAP if I do see it, so if you don't get an update and didn't hand it in by Google forms feel free to nudge me again! So. If you have my discord, you can message me there (that would be preferred), or the google form within the linked doc doesn't have a tracking of email addresses so you can send it that way if all else fails! You can FFN DM me if preferred. Reddit also exists (u/ClearedPipes), or my tumblr (clearedpipes). Suffice to say, there's a lot of ways to get through to me. If you do try to send it through FFN DMs, you will need to either put the body text or remember to space out the link.
If you need an extension of the deadline, they're provisionally available provided I am contacted before the day of the deadline and given a specific reason (they aren't ideal though).
A huge thank you to Moose (TeamShadow) for betaing this! You're the man!
Many thanks
Pipes.